


Animated Corpse

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series: Mountie Slayer Arc 3, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-31
Updated: 2000-10-31
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: The Watchers, The Initiative, kidnappings, death, murder, intrigue and fun.This story is a sequel toKiller Queen.





	Animated Corpse

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Animated Corpse"
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes
    Note: Title is from a song by Tilt. 
    Disclaimer: Due South belongs to Alliance, Giles, The Initiative and
    The Watchers Council,  Tara and Willow belong to Mutant Enemy, Tom and
    James belong to Magnes and I. Email:,
    
    ---------
    
    "You're to come with us," Giles ordered them firmly. "You're to be evaluated.
    I have orders from the council to bring you." 
    
    "Where?" Tom demanded, interrupting.
    
    "England."
    
    "I don't think so. Sophia's got a recital on Wednesday, so..." Tom trailed
    off, glaring the Watcher down. "Do you think we'd actually trust you?
    What're you? Three for three in Slayers?" 
    
    The Watcher flushed, looking down, and Fraser half turned to Tom. "What
    do you mean?" 
    
    "What, James is the only one who can find stuff out?" Tom glared at Fraser,
    then back at Giles. "Buffy Summers, strangled to death by a vampire prince
    in California. Faith, died /twice/, once of suffocation, once killed
    by Anyanka. By the way, you're welcome." 
    
    "For what?" Giles was getting annoyed. He could admit that he had made
    mistakes. Allowing Xander Harris to take the power of the Slayer into
    him was one of them. The boy had not been able to handle it. 
    
    "You don't wanna know. Xander Harris..." Tom smiled, almost wickedly.
    "Well. We won't get into how /he/ died. But do you really think we'd
    trust you with our..." 
    
    Perturbed, Giles turned to one of the older military men and nodded.
    He hated to do this, he had actually quite liked Tom Grissom when Faith
    had brought him to the safe house in Baltimore, but... 
    
    "Hostile."
    
    The dark haired man ordered and the troops followed.
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun gasped, one hand going to his chest. "Ohhh God..."
    
    "Wha-?" Ray stopped the car, turning to face the Sabbat next to him.
    "What's wrong?" 
    
    "It's like he was hit with a tazer, or something..." Calhoun gasped.
    
    Peter visibly paled. "Uh oh."
    
    "What?"
    
    "The Initiative. I didn't think the Watchers had the gumption to bring
    them in."  Peter Dire sounded suitably impressed. 
    
    "What is the Initiative?" demanded Kowalski, twisting in his seat to
    look back at the Seekers. 
    
    "The military aspect of the Watchers," said Turnbull.  "Enforcers, if
    you will. Government funded." 
    
    "Gestapo," corrected Calhoun weakly.
    
    Ray turned ghostly white. Calhoun winced and let out a small cry of pain
    then sneezed violently. 
    
    "Ah, damn..."
    
    Ray shook his head. "I have to go back."
    
    "Ray, you can't!" snapped Turnbull.
    
    "They're going to hurt him, Turnbull! I just know it! They're going to
    try to take what he won't give them!" 
    
    The Seeker actually raised his voice. "The Watchers almost killed you
    the day they got hold of you! You are expendable to them! You're nothing!
    They want Fraser and Tom if they can get him and they don't care how
    you die!" 
    
    "Don't forget about Winslow," Calhoun reminded dully. "Prince Kowalski,
    much as I hate to say it, Turnbull's right. If you go back, they'll use
    you against Fraser. Just like they would use me against Tom. We can't
    give them any ammunition." 
    
    For a long moment, Ray just sat still behind the steering wheel. He closed
    his eyes, concentrating. If he tried very hard, he could do this, sense
    Fraser.  Nothing. Fear rose in his breast, but his retainer, sensitive
    to his Prince's emotional states, quietly said, 
    
    "Tom is unconscious right now. Fraser probably is, too."
    
    Dief whined and reached his rough, dry little hand for Ray's. The detective
    forced a smile and stroked his hair to reassure him. 
    
    "Now what'll we do?" he finally wondered.
    
    "We have to find a place to hide," said Turnbull. "We can't go to anyplace
    familiar." 
    
    "They would have frozen your accounts," added Peter, "or at least they're
    tracking them. Renfield, I have a suite at the Carlton North. You can
    all stay with me. The Watchers have no clue of who or what I am or pretend
    to be.  There's a garage, too, so we can hide this car for a while. Tell
    me," he said as Ray put the GTO into drive again and started heading
    for the hotel, "is there anyone in authority in this city that you /can/
    trust?" 
    
    "Welsh," said Ray.
    
    "Inspector Thatcher," said Turnbull.
    
    "Prince Warfield," said Caine.
    
    "I've got my clan," Calhoun added. "Von's not the swiftest thing on two
    feet but he can take orders. There's also your clan, sire." 
    
    "You have a clam?" exclaimed Dire, sounding intrigued.
    
    "Clan," corrected Ray. "The McGets. My Irish Gangrel vampires that aren't
    Irish." 
    
    "Ah. Rather like the Watchers are the powers that be that aren't. I understand.
    Well, not really, but that doesn't matter right now. We have to contact
    the one in the best position to help us." 
    
    "Welsh is a Watcher. He can get holda Frobisher, too."
    
    "Trustworthy Watchers? Miracles will never cease. Oh, and, chauffer,
    don't spare the horses, I know this Detroit powerhouse can burn rubber
    with the best of them." 
    
    ***
    
    Giles stood in the ambulance, staring down at the two Slayers. Forrest
    Gales, the team leader of the Initiative group, stood at his side. "This
    may be quite difficult," Giles finally remarked. "They'll come for them.
    They've proven to be quite resourceful and determined." 
    
    "We'll be ready," Forrest hefted his rifle over his shoulder. Giles shook
    his head. "No?" 
    
    "No. I think...I think we should split them up. They'll follow to England,"
    
    Forrest tilted his head, considering. "Give us the demon one. We'll get
    the information you want and then we'll keep him." 
    
    Giles felt his stomach churn at the very thought. "All right..." The
    Council would have a fit at first, but he knew they would agree. The
    alternatives were just...unthinkable. 
    
    ***
    
    Fraser woke up comfortably warm. He was lying on a bed in what at first
    looked like a standard plane. But planes had more than three seats. Where
    was he? And where was this plane going?  He felt a warm hand on his forehead,
    and the man Tom had called Giles hovered above him. "Constable Fraser.
    We were unaware of your illness. We'll treat you as soon as we land.
    What did this to you?" He nodded towards the scratches on Fraser's face
    and chest. 
    
    "Ad...Adolph..." he whispered hoarsely. This change in the Watcher was
    strange. Very odd. Almost parental. 
    
    He was on his guard. These people were not Watchers in the sense that
    Captain Welsh and Buck Frobisher were. They didn't care about the Slayers
    as much as themselves. 
    
    "Adolph." Giles mentally thought back. "Ah. The Wyrm child...I thought
    he was deceased...." 
    
    Fraser shook his head. "Where's Tom? Is he all right?"
    
    Giles pause, then patted Fraser's hand. "Don't worry about that. Rest.
    We'll be landing in a few hours..." 
    
    /Ray.../ He was drifting to sleep. /Ray.../
    
    ***
    
    Tom woke up freezing despite the warmth of his turtleneck and sweatpants.
    He could barely feel his arms, save an annoying tingling sensation going
    up and down them. His eyes rolled upwards and he saw why.
    
    Bound together with hemp rope, his arms were chained to the ceiling.
    A glance downward showed his legs chained to posts on the floor of the
    van. He was sitting on the floor, every breath hurting from exertion.
    They'd gotten him good with that stun gun and trussing him like a chicken
    just added injury to insult. 
    
    "You're awake. Good." A cold hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look
    up. "You pissed off one too many people, /Slayer/. They said we can do
    what we like..." 
    
    "Fuck you." Tom tore his face away from the grip, glaring daggers into
    the other man's face. "Just fuck you." 
    
    Averting his gaze, he saw Jay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Oh God.
    He inhaled, deeply. 
    
    /James.../
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun woke up in bed, staring up at the ceiling of the suite. He'd
    lost all feeling in his arms. That had to be bad. Starting to call for
    Ray, he suddenly coughed hard, sneezing almost at the same time. 
    
    Damnit.
    
    He slowly climbed out of the bed, foregoing the crutches for a moment
    and being careful not to disturb Prince Kowalski where he was sprawled
    on a cot next to the bed. He needed to use the phone. It occurred to
    him that there was someone else in authority that, while they couldn't
    entirely trust, they could at least blackmail. 
    
    The children were all piled onto the fold-out bed on the sofa except
    for Dief, who slept curled up on a chair. Calhoun kept close to the wall,
    using it for support as he eased his way past the sleepers. Thank god
    for the Seeker. Thank god he'd come to warn Turnbull. If Dire hadn't
    taken it upon himself to travel down here, he knew the children would
    be captured and he and Prince Kowalski would be dead or well on their
    way to being dead. 
    
    "Cal?"
    
    He looked back. Prince Kowalski had roused. Hurrying over, he steadied
    his retainer. 
    
    "What're ya doin' up, Cal?"
    
    "I have to call someone. You never met McGuire. He's the one that gave
    me that file. He may have information on the Initiative." 
    
    "Will he send it to ya?"
    
    "He wants to die a natural death. Yes, he'll send it."
    
    "Sit. I'll bring the phone to ya."
    
    ***
    Tom felt himself go cold. James was dying and Jay was his choice to send
    him over again. Oh god, if they didn't get back in time... 
    
    His thoughts were jumbled as the train jolted to a final stop and the
    door to the train was slid open an inch. Daylight peeked through, and
    Jay had to fight to shield his eyes. 
    
    The guard made his way over, lifting up his rifle, and for the second
    time that day, Jay and Tom got a dose of electricity. 
    
    ***
    
    He woke up in an all white room, strapped to a gurney by the chest, shackles
    on his legs and his wrists. He slowly blinked the hazy blur from his
    eyes, staring up at the two men and one woman leaning over him. 
    
    He knew he should be afraid, but he just couldn't make it happen. 
    
    /James.../ He had to know. Had to know how his lover was feeling, terrified
    that James would die and he wouldn't be there for him. 
    
    "Where am I? What're you going to do?"
    
    ***
    
    Jay woke up, finding himself in a tiny, all white prison cell. There
    didn't seem to be a door or bars across the doorway. Slowly, he made
    his way towards the entrance and found himself propelled back by what
    felt like an energy field. 
    
    "No..." He looked around, seeing row after row of cells like these. Demons
    and creatures of all sorts were propelling themselves against the fields,
    trying to escape. There was a constant din as they yelled and screamed
    at their captors and to each other. 
    
    A long beep sound, and two packs of blood fell into the room from a vent
    in the ceiling. 
    
    "Oh God..."
    
    He sat down on the bed to think. His grandfather would miss him by the
    evening.  The police academy would be calling Welsh for him...And Elder
    Calhoun...he was dying and he desperately needed Jay there with him.
    
    ***
    
    Ray sat in the foyer of the suite, hovering but trying not to look as
    if he was hovering. It wasn't easy. Luckily, Calhoun ignored him. 
    
    "Hello? Cut the password crap, Crane. I know this line is secure. I need
    to speak to General Paul McGuire. Tell him it's the mosquito." 
    
    Ray snickered. Calhoun smirked at the sound.
    
    "Yo! Paulie! I need a favor. You do so owe me. I have photographs, Paul,
    don't make me use them. Information...The Initiative...Really? Better
    check your records, Mr. Pentagon Man, 'cause somebody that fits that
    description put the snatch on my last childe and Grissom...That's childe
    with an 'e', you philistine. They also took a Mounted Slayer...No, I
    can't come to you...Because I can't, General. Yes. Yes. Um..." He looked
    at Ray, thinking of a rendezvous.  "Cook County. I have a physical. Ten-thirty
    tomorrow. Dr. Mina Turnbull. Yeah, in the undead wing. None of your freaking
    business, sir. Yeah. See ya." 
    
    He hung up then looked at Ray.
    
    "According to McGuire, the Initiative was disbanded in twenty double-oh.
    Either someone's lying to McGuire, or they're working without government
    sanctions."
    
    Ray sank onto the sofa next to him. "Fraser went east. I can feel it."
    
    "Tom and Jay went west. McGuire will meet us at the hospital tomorrow
    with the information. Can you still take me?" 
    
    "Yeah. Not a problem. How you feel?"
    
    "Like crap." He sighed. "I think I may need glasses. I could barely focus
    to dial the phone." 
    
    "'Kay. We'll get ya glasses, too."
    
    For a long moment they were silent. Then Ray stirred. "You scared outta
    yer mind, too?" 
    
    "Very much so," whispered the former Mountie.
    
    They sat in silence for a moment more then Ray wondered aloud, "Why would
    they split them up?" 
    
    Calhoun shook his head. "Maybe to try to confuse us. Maybe they've got
    something different planned for Fraser than for Tom. I don't know." 
    
    "They okay? Jay and Tom?"
    
    Calhoun sneezed again. "Jay's...scared, I think. Tom doesn't seem to
    be." 
    
    "Maybe he's got something planned."
    
    "Maybe." Calhoun sounded doubtful.
    
    ***
    
    Tom winced as a needle pierced his arm and a drug filled his system.
    A rough hand checked his pulse and breathing. He forced words past his
    dry lips. "Tell me what you want!" 
    
    "You're in no position to demand things, Mr. Grissom," the woman smiled
    mirthlessly. "Care to tell us what happened to Xander Harris?" 
    
    "No." He set his mouth in a firm line, glaring at the ceiling.
    
    Forrest looked slightly perturbed. "This isn't going to work. He's not
    responding to the serum." 
    
    "No. You're quite right."
    
    /Oh, no, he's not/, thought Tom wickedly.
    
    She frowned as the pulse under her fingers jumped, beating faster. And
    faster. And faster. 
    
    Suddenly Forrest doubled over, clutching his skull.
    
    ***
    
    Jay bent to pick up the blood pack, sitting on the edge of the cot and
    staring at it. He was getting hungry, very hungry. 
    
    Before he could bite into the pack, he heard a voice mutter. "Don't eat
    that!" 
    
    Looking up, he saw a man on the other side of the field. He had sandy
    brown hair and hazel eyes and Jay couldn't place his accent. Still, there
    was something about the voice. A ring of truth. "Why?" 
    
    "You don't know where it's been. Or what it ate before it was there."
    
    Jay put it down. "Who are you?"
    
    "A friend."
    
    "We can have them in here?"
    
    The man smirked at the young vampire and kept walking.
    
    ***
    
    "You need to eat," Giles admonished, pushing the plate closer to Fraser.
    The Mountie stubbornly shook his head. "Why not?"
    
    "Where am I? Where's Tom? If you took him, he should be here." Fraser
    shoved the plate back. He felt irritably unwell and it was too hot in
    this place. 
    
    Giles frowned. "I didn't take him."
    
    Almost relief. "You left him behind."
    
    "No. The Initiative took him. For testing, I understand. I'm sure he's
    quite safe..."
    
    "Safe?  After we were knocked unconscious with tazers?"
    
    "You're safe, Constable."
    
    "From what? I was safe in my own home, Watcher. I don't need your brand
    of safety, I need to get back to my friends and family. They need me.
    I have duties to perform and superiors to answer to." 
    
    "You're a Slayer, Benton, Born and Bred," Giles tried to reason. "You
    have a higher calling than that of the RCMS." 
    
    Fraser's eyes narrowed. "Who are you to tell me that or to prioritize
    my obligations? I know where my duties lie and I know how the Watchers
    have treated me and mine."
    
    The Englishman shifted uncomfortably. "Ah. The Cruciamentum. Yes. That
    was unfortunate. Winslow was...rash. That was completely unauthorized."
    
    "And this attack, this kidnapping - all this was authorized?" Fraser
    waited for an answer he knew would never come. "Is it standard procedure
    to interfere in the private lives and families of the Slayers? So you
    always threaten children?" 
    
    Silence.
    
    "And you expect me to what - co-operate with you? After you hand my friend
    over to the Initiative? What exactly will they do to Tom Grissom, Mr.
    Giles? What do they want him for?" 
    
    More silence. Fraser was about to start another round of questions when
    Giles finally raised both hands. "I didn't wish to bring either of you
    in. The...the council is unhappy with the way I've treated my Slayers."
    
    "What, leaving them on their own at such young ages?"
    
    Giles looked down. "Treating them with respect. Like people. Human beings."
    He sighed, shaking his head. "No. I don't know what they're going to
    do to Thomas, but I'd wager it won't be good. From what I've seen...the
    Initiative can be quite brutal, and they're very, very good at what they
    do." 
    
    ***
    
    Tom raised his head, eyes meeting the wide-eyed gaze of the woman above
    him. In the room's radius, only she had been spared the gruesome, brain-exploding
    death of her assosciates. He didn't have time to wonder why.
    
    "What...what did you do?"
    
    He couldn't fight it. "I'm psychic..." His voice was slurred. Oh no...
    
    "What did you do to Xander Harris?"
    
    "I killed him...br-broke him..."
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun suddenly smiled, raising an eyebrow at Ray as he got the Sabbat's
    things ready for his appointment. "What?" Ray asked, amused at the look
    on his retainer's face. 
    
    "He just killed a whole hell of a lot of them."
    
    ***
    
    The questions continued as Tom lay on the cot, the drugs wearing off
    slowly but surely. She questioned him about everything - his children,
    his parents, his friends, his life in Baltimore and Chicago. He spoke,
    knowing he was telling her everything but helpless to stop himself. It
    was as if he /wanted/ to talk. He couldn't stop and she encouraged him
    to go on and on. He was talking about James, on the verge of telling
    her about his lover's role as an agent for the army, when suddenly his
    brain clicked back under his control. Thank god. He was in command of
    himself once again. 
    
    He babbled a bit more, making things up now as he went as he tested his
    bonds.  Still securely chained, but... 
    
    He was the Primal Higher. He remembered D'Hoffryn's strength and wondered
    if he couldn't tap into a bit of that himself. He tensed, his conversation
    getting particularly inane, and he concentrated on freeing his arms.
    
    The woman gagged as the chains wrapped around her neck and she found
    herself face to face with Tom Grissom. 
    
    The Higher.
    
    The Psychic.
    
    The Slayer.
    
    He was free.
    
    ***
    
    Willow Rosenberg dipped her head down, typing faster. Ever since what
    was left of the town had been captured by the Initiative, she'd been
    locked in this room, forced to encode and decode until she thought her
    brain would explode. 
    
    Her only solace was her lover, Tara, who the Initiative had allowed to
    stay by her side at all hours (maybe they thought they'd get work out
    of her if she was happy, she was never sure) and the monitors that were
    in the room, allowing her viewing access to all the rooms in the complex.
    
    Tara was watching one intently, staring at the of a dark haired man throttling
    the hell out of the woman they had come to know as the Bitch Queen of
    Sunnydale. 
    
    "We should contact him," Tara finally whispered. "We could do it with
    a spell." 
    
    ***
    
    Wrapped in his leather coat, James Calhoun sat silently in the waiting
    room next to his Prince. Ray cast him the occasional worried look. Aside
    from having Fraser snatched away, the most disturbing aspect of this
    situation was the declining health of his only retainer. He was used
    to Calhoun robust and unstoppable, as much a constant in Ray's life as
    Dief stealing food and the Sacred Stetson. Calhoun had quietly endured
    the physical, sacrificing bodily samples of all sorts and putting up
    with a lot of intimate prodding and x-rays.  Ray sat with him the whole
    time, helping him undress and dress and knowing that for all his bravado,
    Calhoun was frightened of what the test results might show. He didn't
    blame him. Ray was just as afraid. 
    
    "Want to get glasses after this, while we're out?" asked Ray.
    
    "I think I'll be too tired, Prince Kowalski."
    
    Ray nodded. "'Kay. Another day."
    
    "We have to be careful. We're not out of the woods."
    
    Ray nodded, looking up as another elderly man entered the room, a briefcase
    in his hand. He looked around then did a double-take. 
    
    "Jamey?"
    
    Calhoun smiled faintly as he looked up. "Paul."
    
    "My god, you look terrible! What the hell happened to you?"
    
    With a tired sigh the Sabbat said, "I'm alive, Paul. I was made into
    a ghoulite." 
    
    Ray studied the man intently, not sure what to think of him yet. Calhoun
    remembered his manners. 
    
    "Prince Kowalski, General Paul McGuire, my immediate superior in the
    US Army. Paulie, this is Detective Ray Kowalski, my prince."
    
    "A pleasure, Detective. We didn't get to meet the last time I was here,
    you were busy going over." 
    
    "Yeah, didn't like it. Came back."
    
    McGuire returned his attention to his subordinate. "What happened?" 
    
    "A mirror smasher. I happened to have had some Moloch for lunch and that
    was enough demon blood in me for the smasher to work." 
    
    "James...how old are you?"
    
    "One hundred and forty-nine."
    
    "Oh, my god. Jamey!" McGuire's distress seemed genuine as he looked at
    the man sitting before him. Calhoun looked no more than twenty-five years
    old. A very sick twenty-five. "You've got to go back over or you'll die!
    Where's your second?" 
    
    Calhoun shook his head, closing his eyes and coughing quietly. He hoped
    they couldn't see him trembling. "I don't want to give Von that kind
    of authority. It would go right to his head and short-circuit both his
    brain cells. I want my childe, Jay, to do it." 
    
    "And the Initiative have him."
    
    "So they do exist," insisted Ray.
    
    "Oh, yes, son, they do indeed." He sat down next to Calhoun and opened
    his briefcase on his lap. A file similar to the one about the Watchers
    was produced. 
    
    "Here. Read this. They /were/ disbanded, but some of them seem to have
    found funding and have taken advantage of the relative lack of governmental
    authority since Armageddon." 
    
    Calhoun handed the file off to Kowalski, who broke the seals holding
    it closed.  McGuire sucked in his breath to protest but Calhoun waved
    him off. His voice was a whisper as he said, "General, I can barely see."
    
    Ray paused, shocked. McGuire sat back in his chair, floored by the use
    of his title. It spoke volumes. Then Calhoun shifted and coughed again.
    It was a pained sound. 
    
    Kowalski tensed, reaching for his retainer. "Cal, you need to lie down?"
    
    "N-no...I...I..." He was pale, his breath coming in pants. "I...want
    to walk.  Prince...Ray...help me up." 
    
    Ray shoved the file back at McGuire and gave Calhoun a hand up, shooting
    a look at McGuire to get help. The Sabbat was shaking, leaning heavily
    on the detective. 
    
    "Dr. Turnbull," ordered Ray as McGuire headed for the door with the file
    in hand. "Go get her. C'mon, Cal, itty bitty steps. Lean on me. That's
    it. No rush. Can ya breath okay?" 
    
    Calhoun barely managed to nod his head when suddenly he staggered, his
    knees buckling beneath his own weight despite Ray's support. The Sabbat
    became deadweight in Ray's arms as a gasp of pure agony escaped his lips.
    Ray froze. 
    
    "What? What?"
    
    "My - leg," he whispered. "Broken again."
    
    "Oh, god, Cal! Mina!" Ray cried. "Mina! Oh, god, Cal, let me-"
    
    The sound that escaped Calhoun was terrible to hear as Ray tried to ease
    the suffering man to the floor. Mina came running, McGuire on her heels,
    pushing Ray out of the way as two nurses came in behind them. Ray stood
    back, stricken, as they tended his retainer. His only retainer. His friend.
    
    ***
    
    Tara lit the stick of incense, waving it in the air before setting it
    down with the six others and taking Willow's hands in hers. Closing their
    eyes, they chanted together. Concentrated on the man in the cell. 
    
    As their thoughts became more and more focused on him, who and what he
    was slowly began to take shape in their minds. 
    
    He was a Slayer.
    
    One of several, if his mind was clear enough. Someone near him was in
    pain. Agony. He could feel it, and was trying to fight it as he worked
    at freeing himself from the table and the room. It was too much for him,
    it would seem.  There were too many things for him to concentrate on
    right now and he had to re-order his priorities. 
    
    They opened their eyes, gazes going towards the monitor. If he didn't
    move, they'd come for him. 
    
    ***
    
    /Tom.../ a voice whispered in his mind as he lay on the table, surrounded
    by corpses whose skulls had been shattered. His work. Somehow, he had
    eliminated the people trying to question him. Was it the serum, an unforeseen
    side effect?  Or was it simply one of the powers of the Higher? It seemed
    to have left him now. He had other things on his mind at the moment,
    though. 
    
    He was in pain because James was in pain.
    
    Scratch that. He was in pain because James was in agony. The Sabbat was
    acting on pure reflex, screaming endlessly in his mind. 
    
    His leg. Somehow, the thigh bone Adolph had snapped in Hell had been
    re-broken. Tom knew automatically what had caused it: James' bones were
    too brittle to support his weight. He was too old. He was right. He had
    to go back over. Oh, god, why had he argued about it with him? Jay had
    been right there. Mina was right - James would die because Tom wanted
    him to live. Because he wanted more children. Because he'd been selfish.
    Oh, god... 
    
    "James..." he gasped, striving to help his lover in some way, trying
    to calm him. They had made love this way once. It had been so beautiful,
    so sweet. And he had been here. In this fucking town. /James.../ 
    
    Agony was his only answer, mindless pain and confusion.
    
    /Tom.../ Not James. Who? Two voices. Two women. They were close. /Help
    us...Let us help you...we have to break the link./
    
    He didn't want to sever the connection, afraid that when he went to put
    it back, there would be nothing there. 
    
    With a groan, he felt the connection being severed for him. Still, they
    tried to make it a gentle sensation, and somehow they tried to ease the
    separation for James. 
    
    ***
    
    Ray watched as Calhoun's head lolled on the hospital bed's pillow. He
    was feverish, almost as bad as Fraser had been. Mina feared pneumonia.
    Damnit. It had struck so quickly. 
    
    He was dying. The test results were back. He was diabetic and almost
    blind, his body shutting down on him in stages. They had put his leg
    in a cast but setting it had been too difficult when more of the bone
    broke in the process. Mina said there was little they could do: the Elder
    was too old to live, for all he looked younger than any of them. She
    had sedated him, fearing that if he moved too much he'd break more bones
    or somehow hurt himself worse. 
    
    McGuire sat with him. Ray had decided the man was all right when he insisted
    on remaining. Ray figured it was because Calhoun was his subordinate,
    but gradually he realized that despite Cal's past insistence otherwise,
    McGuire was also his friend. They were waiting for Turnbull and Dire
    to bring the children. Cassie was on her way, too, and would take the
    children home after their visit. 
    
    His retainer suddenly gasped, falling back against the bed, horrifyingly
    still. And cold. 
    
    "Cal?"
    
    Tears stood in the pale, sightless eyes, and the softest of whispers
    escaped his throat. "...tom..." 
    
    It was one of the loneliest things Ray Kowalski had ever heard.
    
    ***
    
    Jay looked up as the sandy haired man wandered by again, slipping another
    pack of blood through a vent in the wall. "Eat that. It's clean." 
    
    "Why are you doing this?"
    
    Another smirk. The man started wandering.
    
    "What is it you want from me?"
    
    "You'll find out soon enough."
    
    ***
    
    Tara and Willow looked up as the door to their tiny room was yanked open.
    Standing outside, panting, his arms still hooked into chains, was the
    man from the monitor. 
    
    He'd found them.
    
    And he didn't look too happy.
    
    He sniffed the air, glaring at them. "You're human."
    
    "Yes," Willow nodded. "Did they hurt you?"
    
    "What? What do you think?" he snapped. "How do I get out of this dump?"
    
    "We don't know," admitted Tara. "We've been trying for ages. We don't
    even know for sure where we are." 
    
    Tom stared at them a moment, recognizing the voices in his head from
    earlier.  Okay, they were the ones that cut the link. If James died alone
    because of them, he was going to be beyond pissed. Right now, he needed
    allies. 
    
    He pushed the door open and gestured for them to leave. "Ladies..." 
    
    "Wait." The red haired girl stopped him. 
    
    "What?" he demanded, impatiently. He really didn't have time for this.
    
    "There's a lot of people here. They'll be looking for you."
    
    She went back to her computer. She was going to make them very sorry
    she'd been put in charge of the security system. 
    
    ***
    
    Giles pushed the tape in the VCR, sitting back as it played its contents
    for the shocked Slayer. Anya, tried and executed by the Primals. Eaten
    alive. She had murdered a Slayer and the price was terrible indeed. 
    
    "Why are you showing me this?"
    
    Giles took a deep breath. "The Initiative wants to know how Grissom can
    morph so quickly and painlessly. They also want to get a handle on the
    power he now possesses and see if it can't be recreated for their purposes."
    
    "If that was D'Hoffryn, would they be doing this?" asked Fraser, refusing
    to look at the video any longer. 
    
    "Most likely not."
    
    "But to Tom Grissom, it's acceptable?"
    
    "In their eyes, yes. Tom is half human. He shouldn't be able to handle
    this amount power with those genetics." 
    
    "But he's a Slayer Born."
    
    "That, I think, is what gives him the edge. We do know that for a certain
    period he was not a Slayer. Can you tell me why?" 
    
    And risk Sophia? Never. "I won't."
    
    "Either way, something happened that he is now a Slayer again. From what
    I know of Tom Grissom and the extent of his powers, he quite open to
    channeling other spirits. I believe this may be the case." Giles looked
    at him. "I understand, Constable, that you are also quite proficient
    at channeling." 
    
    Fraser kept his voice under control, not liking the reminder of the incident
    with Lilith. "I was possessed, Mr. Giles." 
    
    "And you're both Slayers Born, only you have the advantage of breeding
    as well." 
    
    "What is your point, Mr. Giles?"
    
    "Forgive me for being both blunt and crude, Constable, but we could spend
    the entire day circling the subject in the most polite ways. You are
    unique in that you are a Slayer Born and Bred. You were unexpected. A
    dark horse, to use the American term. Bottom line, Constable, is that
    the Watchers want you to pro-create so as not to lose this uniqueness.
    And you'll never reproduce with a male ghoulite." 
    
    "Don't call him that," snapped Fraser. "That's an insult and I won't
    stand for it. Who are the Watchers that they can decide this?" 
    
    "They made you. Or so they claim."
    
    "They did nothing, Mr. Giles, except torture me and my friends and endanger
    all of us with their experiments." He rose. "I want to leave. Now." 
    
    Giles looked up at him sympathetically. "You can't."
    
    "Then stop me if you can."
    
    Giles stared up at him for a moment then shook his head. "I won't." 
    
    It was Fraser's turn to look perplexed. "You won't."
    
    "No."
    
    "Why not?"
    
    "Because, Constable," And Giles stood, finally face-to-face with Fraser.
    "I don't give a bloody fuck what the Watchers want." 
    
    ***
    
    Tom wandered through the complex's more hidden corridors, Willow and
    Tara beside him. Finally he stopped, feeling completely turned around.
    "I have to find my friend, then we're getting the hell out of here,"
    he said, looking towards them. "Either of you got a problem with that?"
    
    Tara shook her head. "Not likely." She looked to Willow, their fingers
    touching momentarily. "The town's basically deserted, has been ever since
    it was taken over by the Initiative." 
    
    She jumped as a Mora demon shoved passed her, running in the direction
    they'd come from, cackling wildly. Tom shook his head, not sure he even
    wanted to know. 
    
    "What town is that?"
    
    "Sunnydale," Willow chimed in.
    
    "The Hellmouth. Great. Never thought I'd see that place again,"
    
    Willow looked surprised. "You've been there? When?"
    
    "Few years back. Met a vamp I didn't like, got rescued by one I love."
    
    "Oh." Willow looked surprised.
    
    Three more demons. This was almost getting to be a convention. Tom stared
    down the hallway, shocked. 
    
    "What did you do?" Tom demanded, suddenly quite sure that it was their
    fault. 
    
    "A little spring cleaning to keep the guards busy."
    
    "Where are the vampires kept...?"
    
    A voice cleared down the hallway, and all three heads turned towards
    the sound. "Follow me if you want to see your friend." The sandy haired
    man muttered, smiling almost wickedly. He was holding a bunch of restraint
    collars in his hand. 
    
    Tom stared, shocked at the visage. "Spike?"
    
    "In the flesh. So to speak." The former lead Anarch smirked, turning
    on his heels. "Met a priest. He blessed me. I died. Sort of." 
    
    "What the hell do you mean 'sort of'?" He followed at Spike's heels,
    the two witches behind him. "You're a vampire. You get blessed, you get
    dead. No ifs, ands, or..." 
    
    "Spells." Willow said suddenly.
    
    "What?"
    
    "The Initiative. They were a bit pissed that their prized chip boy project
    thing got dug out and dusted. So they had me resurrected as their errand
    boy. Apparently my loss cost them twenty mill and they want me to make
    it up to them." 
    
    Tom blinked, shaking his head. "At least we know you're good for something.
    What's with the hair?" 
    
    Spike smirked. "I was making myself sneeze."
    
    Suddenly he paused, listening. An alarm was sounding in the distance,
    echoing down the halls. 
    
    "Shit," muttered Spike. "They're on to us."
    
    "Us?" wondered Tom.
    
    "No," Willow told Spike. "Not for us."
    
    "Red," he smiled, mock chidingly. "Up to your old ways again, I see."
    
    "Maybe. Maybe not." 
    
    ***
    
    Cassie brought her sisters and brother to the hospital ward, and were
    allowed to stay a grand total of ten minutes, and even then they weren't
    allowed too close.  Calhoun, though glad of the visit, was too drugged
    and too far gone to really react to them. Sophia was confused and insisted
    on leaving Woofy for him to sleep with. 
    
    Ray left them a moment and peeked out into the hall. Turnbull and Dire
    were talking to McGuire while Dief flirted with the nurses at their station.
    The two vampire battle axes seemed to like him immensely and he was laying
    the charm on with a trowel. When Turnbull saw him, he frowned and left
    the two men at each other's mercies and came to talk to the American.
    
    "Detective, you have to get some rest. Let me stay."
    
    "No. Ya gotta read that stuff from McGuire. I'll be okay. I'll sleep
    in the chair." 
    
    "Well, while we're here, go get something to eat. I insist, Ray, you
    look pale.  I've contacted Captain Welsh and he'll be meeting us later
    today. I'm going to ask the general if he'll accompany us, his input
    could be invaluable." 
    
    He wasn't really hungry, but he'd learned how stubborn the Seeker could
    be and capitulated. Avoiding the stairs, he went to the cafeteria and
    sat down to a bowl of soup and a sandwich, eating slowly and forcing
    himself to eat it all.  His stomach was in knots as he sat wondering
    about Fraser. God, would they ever get a chance to rest? 
    
    He raised his glass of water to his lips and drank, looking over the
    brim across the cafeteria. 
    
    He recognized the two men that walked in. Where had he seen them? A while
    ago, he knew, but he vaguely remembered their faces. Something told him
    he didn't want to be remembered in turn. 
    
    /Shoulda dyed the hair brown this time, Kowalski/, he thought, heading
    calmly towards the door. Where had he seen those two doofuses? 
    
    It struck him as he exited the cafeteria. The Cruciamentum. They were
    two of the commandos that had snatched him from his own living room.
    Shit! They were back. 
    
    He was walking down the hall towards the main entrance, his hand reaching
    for his gun as he went. He knew when they were within a few yards and
    he whirled, drawing his weapon. 
    
    Both men had guns teamed on him, hidden in the folds of their coats.
    Someone in the crowded entrance spotted Ray's gun and screams erupted
    and people dove for cover. 
    
    "How 'bout it, boys?" demanded Ray. "Going to pop a cop in public?" 
    
    He was about to find out the answer when a low growl sounded behind them
    and Diefenbaker lunged, landing on the first man. Ray went for the second,
    resisting the urge to beat him senseless and desperate to disarm the
    man. 
    
    Amidst all the pandemonium, someone cleared their throat and the distinct
    sound of a round being chambered in an automatic reached their ears.
    
    "Surrender now and I'll call him off," offered Captain Welsh, his weapon
    drawn and at the ready. A step behind him, Vecchio's gun was also out
    and held to the side as the Italian glared down at the tangled heap if
    men and wolf. 
    
    The two men stopped struggling. Ray secured the guns, dragging Dief off
    the first man. Both looked worse for wear. 
    
    Welsh looked at Ray. "You want to explain this to me, Detective?" 
    
    "Got a month?"
    
    "No. You got five minutes. Vecchio, get some marked units here."
    
    Vecchio looked out the window as police cars pulled up. "Fast enough
    for you, Cap'n?" 
    
    "It'll do for a start. Come on, Kowalski, Turnbull tells me your boy
    ain't feelin' too well." 
    
    "He's dying."
    
    ***
    
    Spike led them straight into the third containment area. Pending experiments,
    he explained. Jay looked up, dropping the empty blood pack on the floor
    and jumping to his feet. "Higher!" he said, moving towards the field.
    
    "Can you open that?" Tom demanded of Spike, glaring at the vampire. 
    
    "No. But Red here can," He replied, smirking at Willow. The girl nodded,
    moving towards the control panel. 
    
    Tom watched in surprise as the girl managed to hack into the controls
    and have Jay out in less then a minute. She might be quite useful back
    in Chicago, he thought. 
    
    "You ok, Jay?"
    
    "Of course, Higher."
    
    "Higher. You weren't a Higher when Adolph had you up on that stalk,"
    Spike remarked, leading them back towards the exit. "You were barely
    even a Slayer." The klaxon got louder. 
    
    "Things change," Tom said, not willing to go into too many details. 
    
    Spike rolled his eyes, his gaze suddenly going towards a woman locked
    in a cell. "Pet?" 
    
    Drusilla stood, looking hopeful and not just a little nuts. "Spike..."
    
    "Leave her," Tom said, steering Spike away. "She gets left or she gets
    staked. Pick." 
    
    Drusilla smiled, insanely. "Did you really think your boy had changed,
    Thomas?" she whispered. "Were you surprised when he skewered you?" 
    
    ***
    
    Lucia stared at the dark roads ahead, glaring at the pavement like it
    could somehow move and get her to her destination faster. She was going
    to kick Jay's ass for this. Getting captured, especially when he was
    supposed to pick her up. 
    
    It was ludicrous.
    
    She'd rescue his butt, and then he'd pay and pay and pay...
    
    ***
    
    Fraser was starting to feel better. Either the Watchers really had done
    something for him, or Adolph's poison had finally worn off. Either way,
    he was extremely relieved if not remarkably hungry. Maybe now he could
    concentrate on leaving. On getting back to Ray. 
    
    He looked up as the door opened, and Giles re-entered the room. The Watcher
    smiled at him, rubbing the bridge of his nose and replacing his glasses.
    "You'll be pleased to know that your friend has started a prison break.
    The Initiative is quite unhappy." 
    
    "Good," said Fraser.
    
    "That's what I said. To myself, of course. Now, it's time for you to
    overpower me and make your way out the door on the east end of this building.
    You'll find what you need in the building facing the garden and let's
    hope that your title isn't just for show." 
    
    He broke off as a door down the hall opened. "Shh. Wait."
    
    Another Watcher pushed into the room, ignoring Giles. He looked at Fraser
    much as a farmer might look at a horse, and when he spoke his voice had
    an unpleasant, lisping sound to it. "You will accompany me to be viewed
    by the Council, Constable Fraser." 
    
    Fraser drew himself up. "And if I refuse?"
    
    "You cannot refuse."
    
    "This way, Constable," said Giles firmly, guiding Fraser out the door.
    "We'll talk more later." 
    
    ***
    
    The children and Dief had been taken back to the hotel by Cassie, who
    promised to stay with them until one of the other adults returned. McGuire
    pulled rank and insisted that the two men decorating the 13th's holding
    cell be turned over to the military for questioning, sighting treason,
    kidnapping, and conspiracy among the charges he wanted to level at them.
    
    Welsh, who was not about to argue with the Pentagon, was happy to see
    them go and save his department god knows how much paperwork. The two
    Seekers holed up in an interview room, going over the file on the Initiative
    with the only trustworthy Watcher they knew in the United States. The
    two Rays remained behind, quietly sitting with the Sabbat, hoping he
    would wake up but knowing there was little chance of that considering
    the amount of sedatives he'd been given. 
    
    "I'll never forget his face when Tom went into labor that first time,"
    Vecchio said, smiling at the memory. "Wish I'd had a camera." 
    
    Kowalski snorted, tired as hell. "No, no. Besides, he doesn't photograph.
    The first time Grissom went into heat. You want to see panic..." 
    
    "Gotta wonder at him. Big, bad vampire afraid of a little sex."
    
    "No such thing as 'a little sex' in Grissom's book. Tom got it right:
    He's the prudest badass on the planet." 
    
    They chuckled, gradually fading back to silence as a cough shook Calhoun
    in his sleep. One of the nurses arrived with an entire battalion of medications
    and shooed the detectives away as she checked her frail patient. 
    
    Ray sat in the waiting room at the end of the hall, Vecchio a few seats
    away.  They were the only ones here. 
    
    "What's the word on Benny?"
    
    "Welsh is trying to find something. So is McGuire. He's east of here.
    Far away.  That's all I can tell." He sighed. 
    
    Vecchio studied the younger man, seeing the lines of weariness in his
    face.  "Hey, you okay?" 
    
    "Yeah," was the automatic reply. "Just...worried an' all."
    
    "Benny's not a Slayer for nothing, Stan, and he's a survivor. He'll be
    back.  You mark my words." 
    
    He nodded then looked up as the nurse looked in on them. "You can go
    back, gentlemen. He may wake up in a little while. I think it would be
    better if you were there to keep him calm." 
    
    "Thanks," said Vecchio, rising. "Stan?"
    
    "What if I lose him, too, Vecchio?" whispered the vampire prince. 
    
    He held no hopes for the ghoulite and he knew his expression said as
    much. "You keep going." 
    
    ***
    
    Tom kicked open the sewer door, getting a good whiff and fanning the
    air in front of him. He stepped to the side, making a show of it. "Ladies
    first..." 
    
    They both made a face at him, stepping into the sewers. Spike went next,
    then Jay. 
    
    They could hear the dim klaxon above them, and moved slowly. They didn't
    want to tip anyone off that they were down here. Jay yelped as something
    swam past his ankle and jumped. 
    
    An albino alligator.
    
    Great.
    
    Spike frowned at Jay.  "You sure you're a vampire?"
    
    ***
    
    Fraser stood in front of the council, resplendent in his red serge, which
    had either been brought for him or kept her for just such occasions.
    He wondered at their audacity for bringing him here, leaving the world
    without its Slayers. 
    
    "...I don't understand what business it is of yours whom I see in my
    personal life. We're not at war with the vampires anymore, nor with the
    demons. What right do you...." 
    
    "Not at war, you say?" a young, snippy-looking Watcher glared at Fraser
    from behind his desk. "Not at war?" 
    
    "No." Fraser stood his ground.
    
    "Just last year we had an outbreak of vampire rampages in London. The
    Giovanni, trying to pillage the population. That's not war?" 
    
    "No."
    
    "Then what would you call it?"
    
    "Survival. I read the reports on that incident. The Giovanni had legally
    requested and were granted hunting rights in Kilmead reserve when anti-vampire
    activists forced their way onto the grounds and slew a Giovanni get.
    The Clan of the Rose retaliated in the only way they could, calling a
    blood hunt on the activists. Those people called the wrath of the Giovanni
    down upon themselves in a senseless murder." 
    
    "Slaying!" corrected the snippy Watcher.
    
    "Murder!" Fraser shot right back at them. "Wanton, pre-meditated murder
    of a young man whose only sin was to follow his family's tradition and
    become undead!" 
    
    "And that's not a sin?"
    
    Fraser stared, amazed at how close-minded these people were. "Then I'm
    living in sin, Council members, and despite your efforts to the contrary,
    I shall continue to live that way. It is my understanding that it's your
    wish to convince me to give up Ray Kowalski and father a child or children.
    I will do no such thing.  Nothing could make me give up Ray." 
    
    The Watcher smiled eerily. "Nothing?"
    
    Fraser glared right back. "Nothing."
    
    ***
    
    Ray watched Calhoun sleep, fascinated by the odd half smile on the ghoulite's
    face. "I wonder what he's thinking..." 
    
    Calhoun coughed, the motion producing a groan. The Sabbat shifted then
    tossed his head a bit as he slowly roused. Ray was on his feet in a flash,
    smoothing the sweaty hair and lifting James' frail hand. 
    
    "Nice and easy, Cal. Wake up. That's it. Wake up."
    
    He sucked in his breath, opening sightless eyes.
    
    "...prince...kowal..."
    
    "Just call me Ray, Cal. We'll be here all day if ya stick to titles.
    How ya feel?" 
    
    "Tired." His hand shifted and he felt the stuffed wolf by his side. "She
    forgot...Woofy." 
    
    "Naa. She left 'em for ya. Figured ya needed him more than she did."
    
    His fingers stroked the furry animal. He could smell Sophia's scent upon
    it.  Tears sprang to his eyes. 
    
    "Hey..." Ray gently wiped away the tears. "Hey. Just hold on, Cal. We'll
    get them back. I promise. Sure you want only Jay? How about Von? One
    of the Giovanni?" 
    
    Slowly, Calhoun shook his head. "No. No." He sighed, exhausted. "Where's...I
    can't feel him. Where's Tom? I don't want to leave them. Where's...Tom?
    Where are you? I want to see...my daughter..." 
    
    He drifted off. Ray closed his eyes, feeling Vecchio's hand on his shoulder,
    offering whatever comfort he could. 
    
    "McGuire figure out what he's gonna do yet?" he finally managed to ask.
    
    "I'll find out..."
    
    ***
    
    Tom scraped his feet on the sidewalk, turning to the others. Daylight
    would be here soon, but Spike didn't look too worried. The vampire pointed
    towards a bar, grabbing Jay's arm, and steering him towards it.
    
    The others followed at a quick pace, slamming the door behind them and
    bolting it shut. Jay had the strangest look on his face. "What is it?"
    Tom demanded, making the young McGet sit. 
    
    "Lucia."
    
    "Lucia?" Tom tilted his head. "What about her?"
    
    "She's coming." He looked paler than a vampire should look. Afraid. "And,
    uh, she's a little mad."
    
    ***
    
    Lucia could feel a ringing in her ears and knew she was close. Very close.
    She drove past a patch of dried corn husks, and practically snarled.
    
    "Damn well better be afraid."
    
    Those were some mighty big cornhusks, though. And she could have sworn
    she saw skeletons attached to them. 
    
    ***
    
    /James.../ two voices in his head, intoned melodiously. Their voices
    were like light, whomever they were. They were near Tom, he could feel
    that. At least he was alive.
    
    "Who..."
    
    /Friends...your love is safe...escaped...don't worry.../
    
    He could see Tom through their eyes. He looked dirty. Grimy. But safe.
    
    "He's out," he croaked in Ray's general direction. The Prince looked
    up, surprised. 
    
    ***
    
    Fraser let Giles get him halfway back to the room before putting their
    plan into action. 
    
    "Don't hesitate, Constable. Make it look real. I can take it."
    
    Fraser whirled and punched Giles in the jaw, knocking the man into the
    wall. 
    
    "Too real," gasped Giles, holding his jaw as he slid down to the floor,
    but Fraser was already running down the hall. "Faster, Constable," he
    muttered, not moving.
    
    Fraser ran as fast as he could through the lavish mansion, trying to
    find the door Giles had mentioned.  He found the eastern side of the
    house and from the window could see the outlying building in question.
    Now just to get to it... 
    
    He ducked into a shadowy corner as a maid walked past him, too intent
    on her work to notice him  He waited, then followed her as she went down
    a service stairway. Down one flight of stairs, and there was a door.
    The maid continued on her way and Fraser slipped outside. 
    
    Dogs. Dogs started barking. Fraser tensed, but nothing beyond the barking
    reached his ears and after doing his best to be sure no one was watching,
    he darted across the lawn. A brace of birch trees gave him a moment's
    shelter then he ran for the building. 
    
    It was a stable. Fraser hesitated as four patient steeds turned towards
    him, their ears pointing forward as they took in the newcomer. Unable
    to suppress a smile, Fraser moved towards the first horse, stroking its
    velvety muzzle as it pressed its nose towards him. 
    
    "Who wants to go for a ride?" he asked them softly.
    
    ***
    
    Peter Dire, Seeker of the House of Elizabeth, was drinking coffee for
    the sheer, Hollywood-inspired nostalgia of it. He thought it was awful
    stuff and he was quite correct in his assessment, but it kept him awake
    and made him a little more hyper than usual. 
    
    "So, Renny, what have we got?"
    
    "McGuire was right in that the Initiative was disbanded. Their compound
    was destroyed, but apparently not as entirely as investigators were lead
    to believe. Their primary function was to enforce on a larger scale than
    the Watchers could, but eventually they branched into military-oriented
    science and experimentation." 
    
    "What would they want with Tommy boy?"
    
    "He's new to being Higher. He's vulnerable."
    
    "And damn D'Hoffryn for not sharing the operator's manual. Do they know
    about you, Rachel?" 
    
    Reluctantly, Turnbull nodded. "You?"
    
    "Oh, I'm just some flighty Slayer from St. John's. I'm harmless. I've
    seen my file." He made a face then drank more coffee. 
    
    "What about Fraser?"
    
    "Besides those dashing good looks and better genes than anyone else on
    the planet? They're terrified they won't be able to control the Born
    aspect of his Slayerness. I'd say they were right."
    
    "As would I."
    
    ***
    
    Ray was hovering over Calhoun when his cell phone rang. Calhoun was getting
    worse according to Mina. His body was unable to adjust to being alive,
    was too old to survive. He had spent an hour on a dialysis machine earlier
    in the day and was being fed intravenously. He was dying. Quickly. If
    they didn't get Jay and Tom back... 
    
    Mina stood to the side, monitoring her ex-elder's vitals, and keeping
    fluids pumping into his system. Calhoun was not responding to insulin.
    The pneumonia was virulent and though she said nothing to Ray, Mina did
    not hold out much hope of Calhoun living to the end of the week. 
    
    They both jumped at the sound of the ring. Ray dug out the phone and
    flipped it open. 
    
    "Kowalski!" Ray barked, feeling annoyed. Whoever it was could just...
    
    "Ray?" Tom's voice was unnaturally loud and the phone was staticky. "Ray,
    are you there?" 
    
    "Tom?" Ray nearly dropped the phone. "Where are you?"
    
    "S...dale...James...kay?"
    
    "Is he ok? No. He...get Jay here as soon as you can. Are you all right?"
    Ray noticed Calhoun was stirring as they spoke, his fingers curling around
    Woofy.  "Cal, he's okay. Okay?" 
    
    "Good..." With that Calhoun's eyes slipped shut.
    
    Mina lurched forward, feeling for a pulse. "Damn!"
    
    ***
    
    Tom held the bar's phone to his ear, shaking his head. Dead. He hung
    it up, turning to the group. "Any idea how close she is, Jay?" He thought
    maybe they could use the Hellmouth to get back. He wasn't sure. 
    
    "She's close, that's all I know, I..."
    
    They were interrupted by a banging at the door. Molochs. Two of them.
    And three Primals of a type Tom had never seen in his life. They were
    covered in grime, as if they too had been in the sewer. 
    
    "Higher?" one of them whispered, stepping forward.
    
    Spike's eyebrows were practically in is hairline. "That would be him."
    
    "Higher! You've come!"
    
    Tom smiled thinly. "Actually I was brought. Who are you guys?"
    
    "I'm Horatio," said the Moloch. "This is Honorea."
    
    He looked past them at the smaller, grayish demons. All three of them
    had tails, claws and pointy faces. "And you?" 
    
    "Ignatz,' said the first.
    
    "Dixie," said the second.
    
    "Minute," said the third.
    
    Somebody's parents watched too much TV. "Tom Grissom. Uh, how'd you guys
    find me? Us." 
    
    "You called," said Horatio. "A cry for assistance went up earlier." 
    
    He considered. When he'd killed Forrest and the others?
    
    Suddenly Jay shuddered. "She's...close. Getting warmer. Oh, god, she's
    going to kill me!" 
    
    "You're already dead, Gangrel!" snapped Spike.
    
    Tom sighed and faced the handful of demons. "Could you please keep an
    eye out for a white Chevy Impala? It's driven by a brown-haired, female
    vampire." 
    
    "Who's mad," added Jay. "Very, very mad."
    
    ***
    
    He was riding hard, across the seemingly endless grounds of the Watchers'
    headquarters. The horse was a fine Irish hunter, fast and sure of foot
    and in a mood to run. Fraser could feel them hunting him. They weren't
    going to let him off this compound alive. He knew it. 
    
    He'd have to outwit them.
    
    He didn't think it would be too difficult. He had already dropped every
    harness he could find in the stable down the covered well outside the
    paddock. He could hear the hounds and he wondered if they weren't kept
    for this very purpose: hunting the hunters. How often were the Watchers
    defied this way? He didn't care. He wasn't their pawn. Or had they wanted
    this all along? 
    
    So far it seemed as if the dogs were his only pursuers. He hoped they
    weren't Hell Hounds, but even so, there were ways out of every trap.
    
    He would find the way out of here and return to Ray. There was nothing
    else for it. 
    
    ***
    
    "Detective Kowalski's phone."
    
    "Turnbull! It's me!"
    
    "Ah, Detective! Forgive me for borrowing your phone and your stapler
    and I will replace all of the staples I've used. Do you call yourself
    often?" 
    
    "Turnbull, Tom and Jay are in Sunnydale. Wherever they were, they aren't
    any more. Tom just called." 
    
    "Indeed."
    
    "Turnbull, put a sock in it! There's a Hellmouth in Sunnydale, right?
    We can get them back that way, right? Keep me from having to get a new
    retainer an all, right?" 
    
    "Verily! Excellent thinking, Detective! I need Tom's copy of the Necronomicon."
    
    "Get an officer to take ya to the apartment. Got yer key?"
    
    "Yes. But how will we let them know?"
    
    "Uh...we'll think of something. Call me later, okay?"
    
    ***
    
    Aja joined them in the hospital, dropped off by Frannie who stayed for
    a few minutes before taking her very pregnant self home. Silently, the
    vampire king just sat with his son and Ray Vecchio, watching the Sabbat
    that had saved his life slowly die. Raymond was in despair, trying hard
    to hide his emotion and be brave in front of Aja, and Ray Vecchio was
    in little better shape. 
    
    "Is there any word on Benton?" he finally asked, his voice sounding strangely
    distant. 
    
    Vecchio shook his head. "McGuire is trying to locate him. So is Welsh.
    The cap'n thinks he may have been taken to England. That's where they
    usually take difficult cases." 
    
    "And Jay?"
    
    "With Tom. They're in Sunnydale, California."
    
    Caine sat up in excitement. "The Hellmouth!"
    
    Kowalski nodded. "Yup. Got Turnbull on it."
    
    He looked up as someone else entered the room. Another man. Frank Zuko.
    He'd been back from Wyrm's city for a few weeks now and sauntered in
    like he owned the place. 
    
    "Ray. Prince Kowalski. My Lord."
    
    Vecchio greeted him with his usual lack of warmth. "Frank. What can we
    do for you?" 
    
    "Nothing. Marco told me about the Sabbat. I came to see for myself."
    
    Eyes narrowing behind his sun glasses, Ray Kowalski looked up at him.
    "See what, Zuko?" 
    
    "Word has it he's dying."
    
    "So what if he is?"
    
    Zuko shrugged, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he saw the toy wolf.
    "Not every day you get to see a vampire die of old age." 
    
    "You won't see it here, either. Scram."
    
    Aja had heard enough. Zuko was arrogant. While at times it was a good
    feature in a man, right now it was uncalled for. 
    
    "You came to gloat," stated Aja, sliding off his chair. "How very unworthy
    of you, Elder Zuko, seeing as how you never faced Elder Calhoun when
    he was in a position to defend himself." 
    
    "He is your prince's retainer, my lord. I came to pay my respects." 
    
    Kowalski almost lost it on the spot. "When the hell did ya ever show
    him respect, Zuko? Get yer sorry carcass outta here!" 
    
    Zuko smirked and Caine did indeed lose it. He pointed up at the Italian,
    every inch the king. "Ware thy words, Elder, lest ye be given reason
    to regret them! The day may yet dawn when his title falls to thee and
    yea, his memory is long! Where wouldst thou turn should ye be declared
    one such as he, Autarkis, clanless and despised? He has prospered in
    his exile and that displeases ye, O selfish childe!" The dark eyes narrowed.
    "Get thee from my sight, Giovanni, lest I make thee responsible for the
    life and welfare of that which is hated most by thee!" 
    
    Cowed, positively frightened, Zuko fled. The two Rays stared at the little
    boy in speechless disbelief and delight. 
    
    "Wow," managed Kowalski.
    
    "You said it," Vecchio agreed.
    
    ***
    
    Tom led his group towards the school, outlining his thoughts to him as
    he went. "I think I can get the Hellmouth open on this side," he finally
    finished, glancing at a very wary looking Willow. "What?" 
    
    "Just this side?" she wondered uneasily.
    
    "Yes. They'd need to be ready to open the other."
    
    "And just how will they know to do that, /Higher/?" Spike asked sarcastically.
    
    Tom gave him a look then smacked himself in the head dramatically. "Gee,
    I dunno, maybe we can send smoke signals or something, Einstein. Anybody
    know semaphore? Guess we'll have to stick with Ma Bell, Billy." 
    
    Jay snickered. Spike glowered but shut up.
    
    ***
    
    He was nearly to the edge of the Watcher's complex. The din of the dogs
    was getting farther away, he'd managed to out distance them for the moment.
    Fraser pulled his mount to a stop. He was at the edge of a slow-moving
    canal, not very wide but deep, with heavy willows trailing their branches
    in the water. A dock jutted into the canal and he hurried out onto it,
    trying to see down the canal.  It was too heavily forested for him to
    see far, but a small boat lay tied to the docks, as if waiting for him.
    
    Giles had most likely left it. Fraser dismounted, a little stiff and
    definitely tired. His chest was sore, but his greatest problem was that
    he hadn't eaten for several days. The horse nuzzled his chest and he
    stroked its nose and neck in quiet thanks, then slapped its rump and
    sent it back to its stable. He cast off the dingy and climbed in, knowing
    he was vulnerable in so precarious a craft. Rowing into the slow current,
    he continued to head east. The dogs were catching up. This was not good.
    
    Suddenly there was a roar of an engine and a three-wheeled, all-terrain
    vehicle burst out of the trees on the opposite side of the canal. The
    driver skidded to a halt, his face masked by his helmet. In his hands
    he held a machine gun that he leveled at Fraser. 
    
    The Mounted Slayer faced him fearlessly.
    
    Hiding behind his helmet, the man smiled then opened fire.
    
    ***
    
    Lucia slammed on the brakes when the wall of Primals stood in front of
    the car. She leaped out, snarling. "What??" 
    
    The two Molochs jumped a bit.
    
    A rat-looking demon smiled weakly. She was just as angry as the young
    one had said. "They're waiting for you at the school..." 
    
    "They? Who they, bud?"
    
    Ignatz spoke up, saving Minute from her wrath. "The Primal Higher, the
    Gangrel, the Anarch, and the two witches. The Higher sent us to find
    you." 
    
    Lucia considered a moment then glowered all over again. "Hop in," she
    ordered, putting the Impala into gear again. "Where's the school?" 
    
    ***
    
    "She's here. I'm dead."
    
    Tom looked up from the pay phone in the lobby of the high school. "Jay,
    you were kidnapped." 
    
    "And guess whose fault that's gonna be. I was supposed to pick her up
    the other night. I mean, it's the anniversary of her going over and she
    spends it driving to California in my car..." 
    
    "You're dead," agreed Spike happily.
    
    Jay held his head. "And I have to type my notes and my shoes are scuffed
    and the drill instructors are gonna eat me alive-" 
    
    "Dead," corrected the Anarch.
    
    "Shut up," snapped Tom. He looked at the girls, knowing by their expressions
    that they were...where were they? Far from here. 
    
    Tara finally looked up, stricken. "Hurry," she whispered at Tom. "We
    can barely feel him." 
    
    ***
    
    Mina kicked everyone out as they hooked Calhoun up to a respirator. She
    knew her Elder was too squeamish for this type of thing and Vecchio had
    to keep him out of trouble. There was little else she could do. Calhoun's
    kidneys were failing, his skin was mottled with bruises, he was too far
    gone to respond to any treatment. He had been in a coma since the morning
    and all she was doing was trying to keep his body alive long enough for
    them to get Jay back here. She had little hope that if he wasn't back
    by tonight, he need not come at all. 
    
    ***
    
    Ray jumped as his phone rang. He was in the cafeteria with Vecchio, the
    older detective having insisted on breakfast for both of them. 
    
    "Kowalski."
    
    "Detective, I have the book. Can you contact Tom? We can open the Hellmouth."
    
    "Do it! Hurry up!"
    
    "We're at the 13th. We're going to center it on here."
    
    "Get them here, Turnbull! Cal's comatose and on a respirator."
    
    "We'll hurry."
    
    Ray's cell rang almost the exact second he hung it up. "Yo. Kowalski."
    
    "Ray! You have to open the Hellmouth." Tom was no longer staticy. He
    must have found a better phone. 
    
    "Yeah, that's what we're about to do. I take it you and Turnbull are
    on the same wavelength today." 
    
    "Whatever. Hurry."
    
    "You, too."
    
    ***
    
    Willow and Tom sat in the middle of the circle while Tara spread black
    dust around them. Candles, pilfered from the teacher's lounge, were lit
    around them, a large one in between. They were in the library, or what
    was left of it. The outer wall was cracked and crumbling as if damaged
    by an earthquake and Tom fancied he could see the weathered bloodstains
    on the carpet from James' battle with Drusilla. He shuddered at the memory
    and turned back to more immediate matters. Willow held a knife and Tom's
    hand, poised to cut. 
    
    "Blessed..." She started then looked up. "We can't use that spell." 
    
    "Why not?" Tom asked.
    
    "D'Hoffryn's dead. You're Higher now." She cleared her throat and started
    again. "Blessed be the name of Tom Grissom, who resides in Chicago. We
    call on his powers as Higher of the Primals to open this gateway to his
    homeland..." She kept going, cutting at his hand with the knife, letting
    his blood drip on the candle. 
    
    This was different than the last gateway he'd opened. He could feel it
    growing from within him. Coalescing into the room, until the hellmouth
    exploded open in a rush of heat and dizzying release of power. 
    
    At that moment, the Impala burst through the wrecked wall of the library.
    Bricks fell, glass broke, and dust settled. Their concentration broken
    and Spike still laughing at Tom being called blessed, they turned.  Jay
    let out a scream and clutched his head at the sight of what being driven
    through a wall had done to his bumper. 
    
    "Get in!" Lucia growled, peering out the  cracked windshield.
    
    Jay gulped.
    
    "You, too, boyfriend"
    
    ***
    
    Turnbull finished the spell on his side, letting the wormhole open in
    the parking lot across the street from police headquarters as he, Dire
    and Rupert watched in anticipation. 
    
    Nothing.
    
    Welsh joined them, hands on his hips, as Dire sighed. "Are you sure this
    was the rig...." 
    
    His question was interrupted as the Impala, drastically changed by the
    effects of hell, burst out of the wormhole, people and vampires and demons
    piled in and on top of it. The convertible had indeed been converted
    - it was black and gleaming, chopped, dropped, and souped up in the extreme.
    A handful of devils had gotten hold of it on the way and this was the
    result. 
    
    Tom jumped off the hood, grabbing Jay by the arm. "James. Now."
    
    Welsh made a face. "I'll have a squad car bring you. Constables, don't
    do this by me precinct again, understood?" 
    
    "Indeedy-doo, O Captain, my captain!" breathed Dire. "I say, Tom, want
    to close that before the bugs get in?" He nodded to the Hellmouth. 
    
    "What? Oh." Tom waved at it, distracted, and the fiery tunnel vanished.
    The Seekers exchanged a look. 
    
    "Ah."
    
    "My very thoughts, Rachel."
    
    ***
    
    He hit the water, feeling it close over him like a welcoming embrace.
    Benton Fraser could hear bullets ripping through the water all around
    him. He knew he was hit in the leg, just a graze through his boot that
    burned as blood clouded the murky water. He fought to stay down, trying
    to escape underwater. The man fired until his weapon was empty, a matter
    of seconds, and the silence was eerie. 
    
    Lungs burning, Fraser swam downstream with the faint current. He knew
    what needed to be done. 
    
    That ATV was his ticket out of here.
    
    All he had to do was get it.
    
    Risking a glance overhead, he saw the dingy drift lazily above him. He
    was about twelve meters downstream. He wished he knew where his attacker
    was or if there were more than one. 
    
    Quietly, he surfaced on the far side of the dingy, daring a quick look
    around before sliding under the water again. The man was intent of the
    spot where Fraser had dove into the canal, not on the boat as it wandered
    towards the bank... 
    
    ***
    
    Tom gaped as they entered the hospital room, unable to completely believe
    the sight of his lover lying broken and wasted on the hospital bed. He
    had never in his life thought he'd ever have to see James in this condition.
    Never had thought James Calhoun could be in this condition. 
    
    It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.
    
    It was his fault. James was dying. And it was his fault.
    
    Stan was there, Vecchio having pulled Adam from the room the moment they
    heard they were on their way. He tore his eyes away from his lover long
    enough to give the detective a look. Ray looked on the verge of collapse
    and his rumpled clothes and pale face told Tom volumes. He felt a rush
    of love for this gentle and caring man that had done so much for Tom
    and his family over the past few years. So many things he didn't have
    to do. His trust, his love, his home, all that he was had been freely
    offered and suddenly Tom Grissom reached out and pulled the scrawny prince
    into a tight embrace, fighting the tears that burned in his eyes. 
    
    "Thank you, Stan," he whispered.
    
    ***
    
    Mina was removing the respirator tube with gentle hands, talking quietly
    to Jay as the young vampire read the papers Lord Caine had thrust into
    his hands as they passed him in the hall. /Vampire 101/, he thought.
    /How to build a clan in twelve easy steps./ 
    
    He wondered if anyone else considered the irony of his own sire being
    his childe. 
    
    ***
    
    He felt Tara's hand on his shoulder and turned to her. "We have to put
    it back. Your connection, Higher. He's in too much pain, his head isn't
    clear enough to take the turning. He'll die if we don't." 
    
    He nodded slowly and turned back to look at James. He felt the women
    go to either side of him, their fingers at the base of his neck, probing.
    Suddenly there was an enormous amount of pressure in his chest, the feeling
    of rushing. He could barely breathe. His head hurt. A lot. His body felt
    unnatural. Unreal.  He felt hands steadying him, pushing him into the
    next bed over. He was so weak. He had to concentrate on forcing his lungs
    to work. 
    
    Jay stood by his former Elder's bed, following the sheets of step-by-step
    instructions that Lord Caine had shoved into his hand as they ran towards
    the room. He knew what to do now. The only question was...could he? 
    
    Kowalski did a quick survey of the scene. Mina was helping Jay, who seemed
    confused out of his mind. Calhoun, still dying. Tom, looking pretty shitty
    himself. Two girls he didn't know yet chanting over him. 
    
    "Ok. I'll bite. What's the prob?"
    
    Willow looked up. "The Elder is unable to go over until we can channel
    enough of his suffering into Mr. Grissom." She turned back to the subject
    of her spell, concentrating harder. 
    
    Tom's breathing was getting labored. Forced. His eyes darted back and
    forth between Ray and James, clutching the sheet under him so tightly
    his knuckles were bone white. His stomach was churning, legs twitching
    convulsively. If he hurt this bad, God only knew how bad it was for James.
    
    Ray jumped as a low, agonized moan forced it's way past the Moloch Higher's
    lips. "How much are you giving him?" he demanded, looking at the girls
    once more. 
    
    "It's too much," Tara whispered, staring at Willow. "He can't take anymore."
    
    Willow's eyes darted to the dying ghoulite. "It's not enough for him...we'll
    need another vessel." 
    
    "Me," Ray said, plopping down in his chair.
    
    "Give the Higher the body," whispered Willow without hesitation, "give
    him the mind." 
    
    And Ray's world exploded in a flash of white-hot agony.
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun could feel fangs at his neck, draining him. And he could feel
    a wrist at his lips, giving back life. Or death. Both were welcome to
    him. Already, he was going over. It was...smoother this time. He wasn't
    sure why. He could feel so many minds within his own, taking his pain.
    Perhaps that was it. He was being eased in. He was not ravished and left
    to his own devices and ignorance in the wilderness as he had been over
    a century ago. 
    
    By whom?
    
    He could feel Tom, beloved Tom, and Ray, his prince without peer, who
    had not left his side through all of this despite his anxiety over his
    Mountie. Two young women, eager to help, their minds as clear and beautiful
    as bells. 
    
    Jay above him.
    
    Jay, his son. His childe. His sire.
    
    ***
    
    Ray was halfway under when he felt it hit.
    
    /No...No!/ Not now. Not here, and not now.
    
    A flash. Oh God.
    
    He saw Fraser. Gunshots. Adolph.
    
    Sophia screaming. Crying.
    
    Calhoun running towards a stone alter.
    
    Tom on a bed of stone. He looked dead.
    
    Joe and Nikko. She sat at in the radio station, leaning over to give
    him a kiss... 
    
    Himself and Fraser, standing side-by-side in the rain.
    
    And then he was screaming.
    
    He heard gasps from around the room, saw Jay stagger but never stop.
    Tom groaned again. 
    
    Something struck him in the head and gladly he gave himself to the blackness
    that threatened to take him. 
    
    /Not Cal/, he pleaded. /Don't hurt.../
    
    ***
    
    Mina knelt beside Ray where he had fallen from the chair. Her own head
    hurt from the brief intensity of the flash that had overtaken her Elder.
    He was trembling, his nose bleeding and his teeth clenched tightly even
    in unconsciousness. 
    
    She glanced up, realizing what had triggered the flash. "No more," she
    said to the girls. "He can't take any more." 
    
    Tara stopped chanting, Willow followed a moment later and said, "It's
    alright.  James can handle what's left of the pain." 
    
    "Get me a blanket," she said, still holding Ray. Willow obeyed, noticing
    that Tom seemed to be asleep, and then helped the doctor to spread the
    cover over Ray. 
    
    "What happened?" asked Tara, noting for the first time that the man on
    the floor was quite cute. 
    
    "He's a Seer," explained Mina, gently dabbing at the blood with a tissue.
    "He sees bits of the future. It's very painful for him." 
    
    Ray stirred.  "...fraser?..."
    
    "It's Mina, Elder.  Elder Calhoun will be alright. I want you to sleep
    now." 
    
    "...frase..."
    
    "Shh. Sleep."
    
    Then she looked up as the EKG flat lined.
    
    ***
    
    Jay felt the difference before it was visible to the eye. A new awareness
    in the man beneath him. He drew back away to look at his sire and saw
    his face was once again as pale and cool as marble, his body relaxed.
    Still not convinced this wasn't truly death, Jay looked between Calhoun's
    parted lips. Fangs. 
    
    "Elder?" he whispered softly. "Sire?"
    
    The icy blue eyes fluttered open briefly. A faint smile touched his lips,
    and then Calhoun slipped into a deep, natural sleep. 
    
    Jay smiled, thrilled, then rested his head next to his Elder's for a
    moment, grateful beyond words. 
    
    ***
    
    Giles looked up from his tea as an excited guard knocked, then burst
    into the room. 
    
    "Watchers! The Initiative compound! We've lost communications with it!
    There's a large body of military vehicles headed there now!" 
    
    Stony stares met this excited speech, and a slow anger spread through
    the room.  Giles, hamming up his injuries received at the hands of the
    insane Born and Bred that dared assault a Watcher, demurely sipped his
    tea. 
    
    "What do we care about the Initiative? Where is the Mounted Slayer?"
    demanded the Chief Watcher. 
    
    The guard swallowed nervously. The Chief Watcher had a habit of killing
    the messenger. 
    
    "Gone, sir."
    
    "What?"
    
    He swallowed again. "We found Trelawney tied to a tree over by the dock
    in the canal. His clothes and vehicle were gone." 
    
    Silence. The guard was almost quaking where he stood.
    
    "Where were the dogs?"
    
    "They...they were lying down by Trelawney, sir. They wouldn't listen
    to his commands." 
    
    More silence.
    
    "You have all the roads and airports covered?"
    
    "Yes, sir."
    
    "Don't bother. He'll get to London and to the Canadian consulate, who
    will return him to America. We'll deal with the Constable there. Dismissed."
    
    The guard bolted out of the room as if it was on fire. Giles suppressed
    a smile as he sipped his tea. 
    
    "Oh, and Giles?"
    
    "Yes, Chief Watcher?"
    
    "You're fired."
    
    


End file.
